Nights Before and Things After
by jtav
Summary: The night before he is to break into Gringotts, Harry can’t sleep. Luna provides some unexpected comfort. Implied HPLL


_When a man knows he is to be hanged in the morning, it concentrates his mind wonderfully_. Harry didn't remember where he'd heard that before, but he thought whoever had said it ought to have replaced "be hanged" with "break into Gringotts."

The grandfather clock struck two, the chimes reverberating through the sitting room. Harry turned his head to the side and regarded Dean, who snored softly in the chair opposite him. Even Ron seemed to have at last succumbed to a fitful sleep, though it was punctuated by thrashing and murmurs of what sounded like "bloody goblin."

Harry had given up on sleep. Every muscle in his body was tense, primed for battle when all he could do was wait. His senses seemed unusually sharp. He heard every creak of the floorboards and chirp of the crickets, felt where his chair had begun to sag. When he closed his eyes, Griphook's voice whispered in his ear, describing the gory ends of those who had tried and failed to break into Gringotts. One particular story, involving a backfiring Revulsion Jinx and flesh-eating slugs, had given Harry nightmares. He shivered at the memory. _Destroying Hufflepuff's cup is just something I have to do. Voldemort's the only one I have to worry about._

Except that wasn't true, was it? Dumbledore had once told him that not every prophecy came true. He had always thought that comforting; he was risking his life questing for Horcruxes because he wanted Voldemort dead, not because he was the Chosen One. As he lay in the darkness, he realized there were other implications. It was not certain that he would survive to meet Voldemort. If the Lestrange vault collapsed on top of him, he would be dead. It didn't matter that the prophecy said that either he or Voldemort had to kill the other. Reality wouldn't go on holiday because a madman was out for his blood.

_Need to calm down before I go barmy_. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He pictured Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters, saw himself sending his own children off to Hogwarts. It was an old fantasy that had grown and changed along with him. He'd fallen for Cho, and his previously indistinct children—James and Lily, the children had always been named James and Lily—had developed dark hair and slanted eyes. Cho had yielded to Ginny, and the fantasy had altered to accommodate her. Lily was Ginny in miniature, and James looked precisely like Harry had imagined his own father to look at that age. When he'd realized that Ron and Hermione fancied one another, they'd joined him on the platform with children of their own. The vision of his future life had never failed to cheer him up; it was the only thing that had made the long months since Bill and Fleur's wedding endurable.

Tonight, though, the vision was shrouded in a haze of fog. His children were blurry and featureless. Ginny spoke, but he could not hear what she said. He looked at her and couldn't make out the lines of her face. She put her hand her in his. Harry drew back and stifled a curse. He had held Ginny's hand many times during their relationship. She'd always gripped him so tightly he'd been afraid she'd crush his hand. The hand that clutched his did not have a strong grip. It did not have a weak grip. It was average. It was generic. This whole scene was generic. These figures might have been any family at any train station. He did not want any family. He wanted _his_ family.

Harry blinked and found himself once more in Bill and Fleur's sitting room. His muscles were still knotted and coiled. He was still terrified, but he was angry and confused, too. His trusted fantasy had never failed him before, and Harry resented it. He tossed aside his blanket. His fear and dread were driving him mental. He had to find something to take his mind off Gringotts, or he'd be in no shape to break into anything. A wireless and a chess board sat on the table, both of which were useless unless he wanted to wake someone. He looked at the clock again: 2:03. Spending the next four hours watching Ron and Dean sleep was unbearable. He grabbed his glasses and put them on, then stood quietly and crept toward the door. Dean stirred slightly as Harry passed him but didn't open his eyes. Harry smiled in spite of himself; all those years of sneaking out of the boys' dormitory had paid off.

It was pleasantly warm despite the late hour, and Harry allowed himself to enjoy the light breeze that ruffled his hair. Waves crashed against the cliffside, and the smell of the sea air washed over him. He stepped into the garden. Dobby's grave was barely visible in the dim light. Harry brushed away the ivy that had grown up over it in the weeks since he had buried the elf. Throat tightening, he traced the inscription with one finger. This war would be over soon, he would make sure of it. He was sick of losing people he cared about.

There was a grassy hill at the very edge of the property. Harry had gone there often when Ron and Hermione were bickering over this or that detail of the plan or when he'd had to cool off after that talk had made yet another veiled claim of goblin superiority. He would miss the place when he left. Trees bordered it on three sides. It was easy to believe that the world outside did not exist, and that Voldemort and the Death Eaters were only echoes of some long-forgotten nightmare.

To his astonishment, he was not alone. A figure lay on the grass, her pale hair spilling around her. He squinted. Luna? What was she doing up at this hour? Had she too suffered a sleepless night? He didn't think her the type, but he supposed anything was possible. A wand lay at her side; light shone from its tip.

She sat up and turned to look at him. "Hello, Harry. Is there something I can do for you?" She placed the wand on her lap. He could see the light reflected on her face.

His curiosity got the better of him and he sat down in front of her. "What are you doing?"

"Professor Sinistra told us to track the position of Mars over the holidays. Now that I've finally got the chance, I thought I should."

Homework? They were fugitives from the Ministry, and she was doing_ homework_? "I think that Sinistra would understand if you had things besides schoolwork on your mind."

She smiled. "Yes, but I'll need to be up on my Astronomy when I go back to Hogwarts."

"Go back to Hogwarts? You can't go back. Death Eaters have overrun the place." He clutched her hand. "They'll take you away again."

Luna looked down at their joined hands. "It's very sweet of you to be so concerned, but I'm not going back just now. I meant I'm planning to go back when the war is over."

Of course that was what she meant. He shouldn't have gotten so worked up. Harry withdrew his hand, embarrassed. "But the war could go on for ages. You might never be able to go back to Hogwarts."

"That's true. I'll fight for as long as it takes. But I have to prepare for life after the fight, too. There wasn't much to do while I was at Malfoy Manor, so I made a list of all the things I would do once I escaped. It was very cheering."

"What sorts of things?"

"Finish my sketch of the Owlery, buy a new scarf, go to a Muggle zoo and finally see a polar bear, things like that."

"Polar bears? I didn't know you liked Muggle animals?"

She nodded. "Professor Burbage showed us a picture of one in third year. I thought they were very beautiful. Is it true that they Muggles believe that they pull Father Christmas' sleigh? What are they like?"

"I wouldn't know. I've never seen one except in pictures, like you." He had only dim recollections of his primary school lessons on the Arctic. The only thing he remembered about polar bears was that he had very much wanted to feed Dudley to one after he'd stolen Harry's homework. "Anyway, it's reindeer that are supposed to pull the sleigh."

"Thank you. Now I know more about reindeer, polar bears, and Muggles." She cocked her head to one side. "And you, Harry? What will you do after you've broken into Gringotts?"

Harry felt as if he'd taken a Bludger to the chest. For a moment, his mind went completely, utterly blank. Then panic set in. He had done his best to keep his plans a secret. Fidelius Charms could be broken, and he didn't want anyone else in danger because they might know something about his whereabouts. Had Luna overheard something? Had Griphook let something slip, hoping to get yet more wizards hurt? "How?" he whispered.

"That's easy. You, Ron, and Hermione have been quite nice to Griphook, but none of you seem to like him. So, you probably need something from him. It must be something you can't get any other way. You've all been holed up in his bedroom for weeks. Whatever you're doing, it must take a lot of planning. The simplest thing that fits all that is that you're going to attempt to rob Gringotts."

Harry sucked in a breath. Now he knew why Luna was in Ravenclaw. "Don't tell the others. I wouldn't want them to worry."

"They'll worry anyway. But I won't tell anyone if you think it's so important." She frowned. "You never answered my question. What are you going to do after the war is over?"

He thought of the hazy vision of the train station. "I have no idea. I've spent most of my time just trying to stay alive. I used to think that I was going to be an Auror, but I've seen so much fighting lately that I'm sick of it."

"Oh, Harry," she said softly. She leaned in and brushed the tips of her fingers across his cheek. Harry held himself very still. Her fingers were surprisingly soft. Warm, too. For the first time that night, he did not think of the war or of Gringotts. In the darkness, it seemed that the Muggle-born Registration Committee, Dobby's death, and even the Horcruxes belonged to another world entirely. He gulped, waiting for he knew not what.

A raven cawed in the distance, breaking the spell. Harry felt guilty, though he couldn't think what he was supposed to be guilty of. Luna dropped her hand and sat back. Her cheeks looked flushed, but it might have been only a trick of light. "It's all right if you don't know what you want to do with your life. I don't either. You should have something to look forward to, though. For instance, Ron told me that he couldn't wait to go back to Honeydukes. He misses the candy."

"Now that you mention it, I haven't had any Every Flavor Beans in ages. I'd like some."

"You see? That wasn't very hard, was it? Now you can think of horseradish-flavored jelly beans while you rob Gringotts tomorrow." She yawned. "I think my stargazing has left me a little sleepy. I should go to bed." They stood.

"Want me to walk you?"

She nodded. They walked back to the cottage in silence. Luna held her wand in front of her, lighting their way. Harry was grateful for the light and the company. They made things seem more cheerful. Griphook's voice returned, describing a would-be thief who'd found himself locked inside a vault for three weeks before the goblins found him and bothered to unlock the door. This time Harry was able to shut the voice out.

_Five days later…_

Harry laid the_ Times_ aside with a sigh. One paper down, half a dozen to go. Hermione wanted him to keep an eye on the Muggle newspapers while she visited Australia to restore her parents' memories. She wanted him to keep watch for any indication that Death Eaters had escaped and were wreaking havoc. There had been no signs of dark magical activity in either the local or national sections.

He wished Ron were here to help him, but Ron was at the Burrow preparing for Fred's funeral. Mrs. Weasley had invited Harry to stay there while he "found his bearings," as she put it, going so far as to drop hints about how glad Ginny would be to see him. He'd refused, saying he didn't want to intrude on their grief.

That was only half the reason he was staying away. He had once thought that he wanted nothing more than to settle down with Ginny. He wasn't so sure anymore. He felt as if he had lost some part of himself when the piece of Voldemort's soul left his body. Ginny, like so many things in his life, belonged to Before. He was still trying to figure out what belonged to After.

The fireplace sprang to life, interrupting his musings. A head emerged from the flames. "Hello, Harry. May I come in?"

"Luna! Of course you can." He watched as the rest of her emerged from the flames. She stood and brushed herself off. "Have a seat. I can get Kreacher to bring you some tea."

She sat down beside him on the couch. "No, that's all right."

"How's your dad? Is he feeling any better?"

She brightened. "Yes. The Healers say he's almost completely recovered from Azkaban. They only have to perform Cheering Charms every other day now." She twirled a strand of hair around her finger. "I finally got a chance to give Professor Sinistra my essay. She was very impressed that I had found time to finish it."

"I can imagine."

She stared at him, and Harry fidgeted under the intensity of her gaze. "I didn't come here to talk about my father or my schoolwork. I wanted to see how you were. Hardly anyone's seen you since the battle. The _Prophet_'s offering a thousand Galleons to any reporter who can get an interview with you."

He smiled weakly. "I promise you any interview I give will be a_ Quibbler _exclusive. At least you'd ask something more interesting than how I felt or what I was going to do now that Voldemort was dead." He shook his head. "I don't have any better idea what I want to do with myself than I did that last night at Shell Cottage."

"That reminds me; I have something for you." She removed a small tin from somewhere within her robes and handed it to him. He recognized the packaging: Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. "I saw these and thought of you."

His throat tightened. "Thank you," he rasped. He didn't trust himself to say more.

Instead, he decided to check another newspaper to keep from embarrassing himself. He plucked one from the pile and opened to a page at random. It was local news, and not very interesting news at that. A boy had won a prize for spelling at the local primary school. Rates were going up on council flats. There was a new polar bear exhibit at the zoo. Wait a minute. Polar bears? He read it again just to make sure. He had. The London Zoo has just received two new polar bears on loan from somewhere in Russia.

He handed Luna the paper. "Read this."

She read. "Thank you, Harry, but why would you want me to read about rent rates?"

"Sorry." He pointed to the correct article. "I meant this one."

He watched as her eyes widened as scanned the article. "I've wanted to see a polar bear for years, and you show me this. It must be fate!" She hugged him. "Thank you, Harry!"

Her enthusiasm was infectious, and he hugged her back. "Must be."

She broke the embrace and resumed reading the article. "The London Zoo. Do you know how to get there?"

"I've seen signs. You take the tube as far as Camden Town--"

"A tube? Why would I want to travel in a tube?"

"Not a tube. The tube. It's a bit like the Knight Bus, except it's underground." He thought for a moment. He hadn't been to the zoo since he was eleven. Maybe it was time he went back. It was bound to be more fun without the Dursleys. Besides, Luna should have someone to show her around. "I could go with you, if you want me to."

She studied him for a long moment, and Harry was afraid she'd say no. She nodded to herself. "I'd be delighted for you to escort me, Harry Potter."

"What? That's great."

He still didn't know what he was going to do with the rest of his life, but he knew what he was going to do today. That was enough for now.

--

Harry is [mis]quoting Samuel Johnson at the beginning of the story. The full and correct quote is: "Depend upon it, sir, when a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully."


End file.
